The Leaders That Never Were
by Sei-sama
Summary: There were entire lives that were unseen by Omi in that alternate future and that alternate present. Lives filled with struggle and pain, all wiped away in that one cosmic collapse of the timelines. This is only a glimpse.
1. The Future

Accepting the invitation to the temple was a bit of a gamble on Kimiko's part. On one hand, she was someone who enjoyed new experiences, new environments, new…anything. That's what happens when you happen to be the daughter of a megacorp tech tycoon. Kimiko's father may hold a child's heart, but he also held a businessman's acumen. After all, you couldn't really head a billion dollar corporation by simply acting like a kid. You had to notice trends. Keep on the cutting edge. Develop better systems and deliver to the public the things they want. As well as convince them to buy the things they hadn't thought about wanting before. Don't stand still, her papa would say. It makes you an easy target for your competitors. He probably didn't mean that literally, though.

On the other hand, she knew that accepting this invitation meant accepting responsibilities. Responsibilities that weren't exactly well-defined. (Don't take contracts that aren't clearly stated; another thing her papa told her.) It meant leaving her prestigious school and the friends she had made, her family, her _life_. Keep on the cutting edge, sure, but changing _everything_ was perhaps a bit too far.

And also, her room had no door.

"I don't have a door," she told Master Fung on her first day at the temple. He told her that he was very concerned about her comfort and had invited her to deliver any complaints to him. Since she took the first invitation, she might as well take this one too.

"Yes," said Master Fung. He was sitting in his room. On the floor, she noticed. There was a perfectly fine chair next to his perfectly fine desk.

Master Fung said nothing else, apparently having nothing else to add such as 'I am sorry for the mistake' or 'Let us fix that right away.' Kimiko tried very hard not to talk like an exasperated tech support. "Can I…_have_ one?"

His legs were crossed in a way that made Kimiko's eyes bend watching them. She considered herself quite athletic, but she had to say that flexibility and meditation weren't exactly her strong suit. Master Fung steepled his hands and rested his fingertips against his chin. "It is traditional for monks to live modestly and openly." Yeah, says the guy in a distinctly larger room with a distinctly functional door.

"Okay, look. I'm not sure if you've noticed or not, but _I'm a girl_. I'm about to live in an entire temple full of guys." Kimiko leaned forward so that her head wasn't looming above Master Fung's. Her arms were crossed loosely, which clearly conveyed that she was disappointed with something, but not so upset that they couldn't patch things up and go out for ice-cream later, at least so her papa said. "Y'see the problem?"

Master Fung closed his eyes. "I do admit that the temple was not built with housing members of different sex in mind. Nor have we been the most…inclusive. And while I do understand your concerns, I do not believe that there is a dire need to install a door for you and you alone."

Kimiko slowly uncrossed her arms and instead placed her hands on her hips. Thus going into the 'we are not seeing eye-to-eye and there may be a problem forming here' stage. But before she could form a retort, Master Fung held up a hand that silenced her despite her bubbling fury. "You must understand. You are now part of a team. That means building trust. That means keeping nothing hidden. It also means, however, respecting each other's space. If the others bother you or in any way make you uncomfortable, tell me at once and I will handle it. Trust me when I say I will not tolerate such behavior. However, there will be no doors installed."

Papa had not told her a gesture for this situation. She felt a little silly just standing with her arms akimbo and nothing to say, but when she dropped her arms, she just felt even sillier. Still, she found a way to keep protesting, although she had to admit that it wasn't the _strongest_ negotiation attempt. "B-but my _privacy_…"

Master Fung finally got to his feet and Kimiko was no longer able to stand over him. However, he didn't take the chance to loom. Somehow, he managed to be taller without feeling tall. And for some reason, Kimiko appreciated that.

Looking down at her, but not looking _down_ at her, Master Fung said, "There is a reason that I do not think there will be many problems, Kimiko, and I do not think that I will get many complaints about the sort of behavior you are worried about. The other Dragons-in-Training will respect you and your space because you have a certain sort of _strength_. Remember that."

* * *

"Have any a' y'all seen Dojo?"

Raimundo paused and let his soccer ball drop to the ground. Kimiko looked up from her PDA. The longer the silence went on, the harder Clay bit his lip. Before the Texan was in danger of drawing blood, Raimundo said, "I don't think I've seen Omi either."

There was a sudden surge of movement towards Master Fung, who looked up at the sound of the stampede with bemused alarm. For the past few days, the only sound had been that of a brewing brainstorm as all the young monks struggled to come up with ideas for a quest. Master Fung had considered this a blessed relief, especially now that the rafters were shaking with three different voices trying to tell him the same thing at once. He eventually managed to get an idea of what the story was, but only when everybody stopped babbling at once and started speculating about what could have happened.

"I mean, they wouldn't leave without telling us, right? Someone musta kidnapped them!"

"Who coulda snuck in an' nab 'em, though? 'Specially with nobody noticin'."

"Dojo's tracker isn't working…the only reason that would happen is 'cause he's travelling in an environment with extreme temperatures!"

"Like a volcano or something? How would _anybody_ drag them to a volcano? That's gotta be like a million miles from here!"

"I reckon we're makin' a big assumption sayin' they're kidnapped. I mean, no noise, no struggle? We passed th' vault on th' way here, it weren't even busted. What if they jus' lit out without so much as a how-d'ye-do?"

"But the fact that we didn't notice _anything_ means something's up, dude! Okay, maybe they _did_ leave without saying anything, but we should have seen them at least, right? I mean, Dojo's _real_ hard to miss!"

"Maybe they didn't – "

"C'mon, there's no way – "

"Guys, _guys_. Remember the _last_ time Dojo went missing and we couldn't track him down? Remember where he was?"

Clay snapped his fingers, eyes going wide with realization. "Chase Young."

Raimundo's eyes also went wide, but for a slightly different reason. His stomach twisted and went limp. His tongue felt thick, as though it had absorbed all his anxiety. It was amazing that he was able to say anything. "He kidnapped them."

"Or they went ahead an' gone t' him. Omi coulda made 'fighting Chase Young' his quest."

"_Either way_," Kimiko said, shutting down any further arguments, "we gotta go find them. Right, Master Fung?"

During the deluge of words, Master Fung had closed his eyes. It had the effect of making him look pensive, but in actuality he had closed them in an attempt to nurse his headache. There were times when he wished the world would remain tranquil and balanced and he did not have to burden his students, his _young_ students, with worries about the fate of humanity, or even just the fate of their friend. But he supposed he took the wrong job if he didn't want to worry.

He opened his eyes and the monks held their breaths. "Clay's hypothesis is very plausible. If Omi has indeed taken on this quest, for us to interfere would be – "

"This isn't _about_ the _stupid quests!_" Kimiko shouted, throwing her arms downward with such force that it almost seemed that she would throw her PDA to the floor. Both Clay and Raimundo took a step back. "You _of all people_ should know that _nobody_ should try to deal with Chase alone. He's already tried to _eat_ Dojo before, and _who knows_ what he could do to Omi! How can you even _consider_ just _standing by_, just waiting and _hoping_ he'll come back in one piece, or _at all?_ I don't care about the quest and I don't care what you say – I'm going out to look for them, no matter what you tell me to do!"

The last word resounded in the walls, and the entire temple settled down into calmness once more. Both Clay and Raimundo stood as still as death. They were in wholehearted agreement, and would have definitely shown support for Kimiko if it weren't for the fact that she seemed to have given herself plenty support already, and then some. Not to mention the fact that _she had raised her voice to Master Fung_. To their slight mortification and immense horror, she had even _jabbed her finger at him_. They had watched the perfectly manicured nail _poke Master Fung's untouchable shirt_. They certainly would have liked to show support, but they were too busy looking around for a hole to hide in.

Kimiko stiffened as the past minute caught up to her, and her face that had been so full of righteous anger slowly shifted to the face of someone who had tossed a drink in her ex-boyfriend's face but it turned out that it wasn't her ex-boyfriend but her boss and was now trying to figure out what to say because she couldn't exactly claim it was an accident and the truth sounded too much like a sitcom to be true. So she could only stand still, her arm still raised with a reprehensive finger.

An eternity later, Master Fung gave one of his rare smiles. "I did not say I was opposed to the idea of a search party."

* * *

Chase's door had been closed, but Chase's door was also made out of rock. Clay pushed it down. It wasn't the stealthiest entrance, but frankly, Kimiko didn't know if anybody could be stealthy enough to get by Chase. So might as well be loud.

The draconian villain they were looking for was looking imposing as always, standing at the top of his ridiculous stairs. As his undoubtedly costly door turned into piles of rubble and expensive opening mechanisms, Chase Young continued to stand with his arms crossed, looking very unimpressed in his probably recently-shined armor. He probably slept in the damn thing too, just so that nobody would ever catch him out of it. If he even slept at all.

"I see that you haven't been taught any _manners_," he sneered. Everything he said was some sort of sneer. At least Jack whimpered sometimes. With Chase, it was constant condescension. Kimiko's scowl deepened, even as Chase's ever-present jungle cats started striding out of the shadows. "To what do I owe this…visit?"

Even as a pair of tigers eyed her hungrily at the foot of the stairs, Kimiko kept her gaze focused on the figure at the top. "You know why. We want Omi and Dojo back."

From down at the bottom of the stairs, Kimiko could clearly see Chase's eyebrow rise. It was easy enough to notice, mostly because his face was normally so impassive that _any_ sign of emotion would have been noticeable. "And what makes you think I know where they are?"

"Because," said Kimiko, but she didn't continue because all of a sudden, her reasoning sounded stupid. It seemed to her that Chase had that sort of effect on people. Another reason to hate him.

When Chase descended the stairs in one leap, the monks instinctively slid into battle-ready poses. He landed silently, hands folded behind his back. Kimiko still said nothing. In frustration, Raimundo took up the flag.

"You can't _seriously_ say that you don't know anything! I mean, you had that whole creepy…_thing_ going on with Omi, dude."

Chase's unimpressed frown deepened into an unamused scowl. His eyes narrowed, and as though attuned to his every facial expression, his large felines circled ever closer. "Surprisingly," he drawled, sharp eyes digging into Raimundo's, "I have much better things to do with my time than to constantly keep tabs on one small child."

Somewhere behind her, Kimiko could hear Clay mutter under his breath to them. "I reckon Chase's 'bout as crooked as a barrel fulla fish hooks, but…I think he's tellin' th' truth here."

"C'mon, man, we can't just _back down!_" Raimundo hissed back, although when Chase began to stride towards the group, he took a step back along with the others.

"He's gotta know something," Kimiko added, her eyes sliding around the room from Chase to the approaching lions to the exit to Chase again. For a few seconds, there was only the rising, suffocating tension that usually goes hand-in-hand with being surrounded by eager-looking tigers and lions while your worst enemy is walking towards you. After a point, Kimiko was unsure if she was even breathing anymore.

And then Clay clapped his heavy hands on both Kimiko and Raimundo's shoulders. "Welp," he said, his voice ringing out in the surprisingly hot cavern, "Thanks fer yer time, sir, sorry t' be a bother, we'll be takin' our leave if y'all please." Kimiko and Raimundo were so stiff that when Clay tried to drag them backwards, their heels dug into the ground rather than take steps backwards.

"Oh no, since you went through all the trouble, please stay. I _insist_," Chase replied, snapping his fingers. Another door slid down to replace the one that Clay broke open. The cowboy took this as a cue to pick his teammates up under each of his arms and start legging it towards the closed door, because even if it was closed it was still made out of stone. The jungle cats around them uncoiled like springs and started leaping towards them like party poppers, if party poppers shot angry, furry things with teeth and claws instead of confetti. Clay managed to dodge several of them without slowing down. In fact, with all of these cats popping out at him like ghosts in a haunted house, he felt encouraged to speed up.

"Th' Silver Manta Ray!" he shouted, and when Kimiko and Raimundo continued their stunned silence, he added, "_Use th' Silver Manta Ray!_"

"Oh, right," said Raimundo, and he fumbled around in his pockets for the bulky Wu, which was hard to do while being carried around under the arm of a guy who was dodging tigers.

It also turned out that it was hard to dodge tigers while having someone under your arm fumble around in his pockets, because as soon as Raimundo got out the Silver Manta Ray, a tiger finally managed to dig its claws into Clay's back and the whole group went sprawling while their only means of transportation skittered away. A jaguar picked it up in its mouth and leapt away to some darkened corner.

Kimiko was the first to get up and ignoring her stinging knees, she delivered a roundhouse kick to the tiger on Clay's back. When it landed, it didn't retaliate, but rejoined the circle of wildcats that swirled around them like a hurricane. Raimundo got to his feet, his mouth full of rocks and Brazilian words that Kimiko was sure she didn't want to be translated.

Standing with them in the eye of the hurricane was Chase Young. His expression said that the eye would become a whirling, clawed tornado of hurt and pain, and that it would happen very, _very_ soon. "Did you really _think_," he said, "that I would tolerate this trespass on my sanctuary? This _inane_ questioning? That I would _accept_ it without due retribution?" Clay was having a harder time getting up, and when he actually got his balance, his breathing seemed shallow. Very slowly, he slid the Fist of Tebigong onto his hand. "Let it be known that _this_ is what happens to all unwanted intruders."

Chase snapped his fingers again, and the jungle cats pounced. Kimiko pounced at well, but at a different target. Chase dodged her punch, as well as the follow-up kick. She launched a stream of continuous attacks that weaved together in desperate ferocity, not thinking about the jungle cats, who backed away from her with a glance towards Chase, not hearing Raimundo say, "What are you doing?!" nor hearing the sounds of battle behind her favoring one side. There was only stupid Chase's stupid face in front of her, which stupidly refused to get punched.

"Let us _go_," she screamed, punctuating each word with some sort of rage-fueled attack. The worst part was that he remained stoic throughout it all, even when she whipped out the Star Hanabi, even when he grabbed her arm and twisted it to the breaking point, forcing her to let go of the Wu, even when he tossed her to the floor and pinned her down with a foot, applying pressure until he broke a rib.

"You may wish that you have any sort of control in this situation," he said, pressing down harder until she choked on her tears, "but in reality, you are powerless." Even with her heart pounding in her ears, Kimiko was suddenly aware of the utter _silence_. No more sounds of fighting. She couldn't even see the wildcats anymore.

"I could break all of your limbs and leave you lying in a pool of your own blood." Chase kicked her in the side, sending her back towards the prone bodies of Raimundo and Clay. "But someone needs to take out the trash." The sound of stone grating against stone indicated that the door was now open.

Through the haze of pain and internal bleeding, Kimiko saw Chase turn and head back up the stairs. "The…Silver Manta Ray…"

Without even pausing in his ascent, Chase replied, "I'll be sure to send it back…eventually. For now, I believe you have a long walk ahead of you."

It was a long while before Kimiko found the strength to stand up again, and even longer still for her to carry out the two boys. When Jack Spicer came across them during his daily routine of knocking pathetically at Chase's door, she was still struggling to hold back tears.

"Woah. You guys look jacked _up_. Are those guys unconscious? _Christ_." If her arms hadn't been occupied, Kimiko would have probably punched the grin off his face. But as it was, she was secretly grateful for his appearance. The noise of his helipack blades thrumming in the air was much better to listen to than the sounds of her own sobbing.

She swallowed down a hiccup and dragged her feet along the ground. The air was hot and dry, the ground rocky and uneven, digging into the soles of her shoes. Clay's body weighed down on her shoulders, heavy with sweat that stuck to her neck, and his blood ran into her hair and down her sleeves. It was drying up now, but that just added to the gross, crusty feeling on her skin. She tried to focus on remaining steady because Raimundo was balanced delicately on top. Getting him up there had been an amazing feat and Kimiko wasn't sure if she could do it a second time.

"Did Chase do this? Did you try to take him on?" Jack let out some gross laughter that crawled up her skin and laid eggs in her ears. "Man, he got you _good_."

Kimiko continued walking. Soon enough, Jack quieted down and the only sound was the thrumming of his hovering blades as he kept pace without keeping a pace.

"Say, where's the cheeseball?"

"Go away, Jack."

"Did you lose him? Again?"

"Go _away_, Jack."

"You really could stand to be a little nicer to me. I _am_ the only person for miles around. And, y'know, I could probably just…"

"Touch them and you're _dead_."

Jack retracted his hand. "Okay, fair enough. Aaaaanyways."

Kimiko sent out a silent prayer for Jack to get hit by a bolt of lightning. Or at least get bored and go home. But he continued to glide next to her, a grin on his face that threatened to break her creep-o-meter.

"Y'know, I _could_ give you a ride back to your temple or whatever."

Kimiko tried to send waves of pure thought through Jack's thick skull in the hopes that he would sense her growing temper and _go away_.

"All you'd have to do is give me all of your Wu," he continued, trying to emulate Chase's level of smugness and falling short.

She didn't even stop walking.

"Okay, _half_ your Wu."

Didn't even hesitate.

"…A quarter of your Wu?"

"Jack," she hissed between even breaths. "If you don't leave _right now_ I am going to reach out and snap your neck _I swear to god_."

Jack raised both hands in a pacifying pose and started to back away. "Okay, okay! I'm going! Jeez, touchy much?"

The sounds of his helipack soon faded away, and Kimiko was alone with her self-loathing again.

Time started to blend into something immeasurable, bleeding into the feeling of her sore legs and the dull pains in her chest and the weight on her back that felt heavy and light at the same time. At the cusp of her awareness, she heard a fuzzy sound that seemed to take on the shape of her name, and she shook off the heavy fog around her head. She hadn't even realized she had zoned out.

"Kimiko." She could feel Raimundo trying to move and look around at where they were. "Let me down."

"No."

Raimundo quickly saw that there was no way he could get down without falling painfully, unless Kimiko actually stopped walking. "Let me down," he repeated. "I can walk now."

"No," Kimiko choked out, because she had seen his legs, torn up and mangled by countless teeth and claws, broken and twisted until he had simply passed out. Before she tried dressing all the wounds, there had been more blood than legs. And thinking of that again, to her immense embarrassment, Kimiko stopped and cried.

* * *

Kimiko didn't know why, but Master Fung looked out of place in a hospital. It was in his calm countenance, perhaps. Instead of quiet chatters, ethereal smiles, or poignant gestures of sadness, he kept up his distinguished airs. He made no extraneous gestures as he sat primly in the provided chair, and the only sign of a greeting was a small nod of his head. Forever the teacher, she supposed.

"How are they?"

"The doctors believe that Clay will regain consciousness soon. And I have been told that Raimundo is recovering well."

Kimiko closed her eyes, the bandages around her chest feeling tight. The image of Raimundo's mangled legs had flooded her mind once more, almost drowning out Master Fung's voice. She struggled to shove it aside.

"And how are you feeling?"

"Terrible," she replied. "Awful. I screwed up. Maybe if we had just left…then…hey. Wait." Her eyes fluttered open again, searching for Master Fung's face. "Who's guarding the vault?"

"Do not concern yourself with that," he replied, closing his tired eyes momentarily. "Please focus on resting – "

"I _will_, okay? But 'concerning myself with that' is pretty much my job!" Forgetting herself, Kimiko sat up because it was hard to make expressive arm movements while lying down. She regretted it immediately. With a gentle hand, Master Fung helped her back down. "Look, I'll get my rest, but we can't just leave the vault _unguarded_. I mean, not that I don't mind the visit, but – "

"When I said you need not be concerned with the vault," said Master Fung, "I meant that I have already contacted Master Monk Guan and he and several friends are guarding the vault as we speak."

"Oh," said Kimiko, once again wishing that the past minute hadn't happened.

"But there is an important topic that we ought to discuss, and that is the question of leadership."

Despite her recent track record of talking back to Master Fung, Kimiko couldn't help but say, "This really doesn't seem like a good time."

"Indeed. The team is now unbalanced, and there is much uncertainty surrounding whether Omi and Dojo will come back or not. This is a rather tumultuous time. Which is exactly why assigning a leader is more important than ever, don't you agree?"

Kimiko's head was starting to sink back into the pillow. Her body was heavy with painkillers and hospital malaise, and she really wasn't in the mood for thinking about serious things like this. Especially since the fact that Master Fung was bringing it up with _her_ in particular reeked of trouble from a mile off. She glanced to the side. "I guess."

"At this moment, I believe I have enough information to choose a leader."

He was looking at her. She could feel his eyes trying to focus on her face, even as she turned away from him. Kimiko stared at her sheets until they sizzled. "If you're going to say what I think you're going to say, then you're wrong."

"Oh? And why is that?"

The starched hospital blanket was starting to burn in her fists. At this point, she couldn't tell whether she was about to cry again or if she was about to set the whole hospital on fire. "Because I _screwed up_. I didn't find Omi. All I did was land everybody in the hospital. What kind of leader does that?"

"You do not only find great leaders in times of success, Kimiko. You also find great leaders in times of failure as well." Hearing this, Kimiko rolled her eyes. Was that really supposed to make her feel better? "I realize that you do not look favorably upon this recent experience, but consider this. Out of compassion and concern, you wished to find Omi and Dojo. For similar reasons, the very first question you asked me was about the wellbeing of Clay and Raimundo. You reflected upon your mistakes, but did not drown in them; instead, you turned your mind towards the future and on plans to move forward. To me, these are all signs of a leader."

No, they were all signs of being a_ decent person_. But Kimiko decided not to say this. She was now so settled in her pillow that she was sure it would consume her. The hospital malaise had certainly consumed her mind already. She could tell because it was traitorously considering the idea of being the leader.

She tried to tell herself that it was a horrible idea.

* * *

"Kimiko," Raimundo said under a shower of Jack-bot parts. "What. Was that."

Nowadays, Kimiko was able to look Raimundo directly in the face. The image of his bloody, mangled legs no longer blurred her vision – or perhaps she simply got used to it. The only reminder of that time was his limp. He told her that he didn't blame her for anything ("And besides, I can still play soccer just fine," he had said defiantly, daring anybody to disprove him although nobody was willing to try). She believed him because she wanted it to be true. But still, when the winter chill settled in the temple and his limp became more of a hobble and he complained of pains in his knees, when Clay suggested getting a cane or maybe a staff and he replied with an insistent no, Kimiko couldn't help but feel the tendrils of paranoid guilt wrap thorns around her heart. Every complaint about the cold, about the pain, about having to run too fast, all of them felt directed at her. And she accepted them.

But when it came to complaints that were _actually_ directed at her, she bristled. It was happening more often. She even knew what Raimundo was going to say next.

"_I_ had that one! I _literally_ just said that I had that one! Do you just go _out of your way_ to make sure I don't do _anything_ or something?!"

"What, are you saying _I_ couldn't handle it?"

"I think we can safely say that you got things handled," Raimundo spat, gesturing at the scrap metal littering the ground around them. "_So_ handled that I don't even know why I'm here! Why do you even bring me and Clay along if you're just gonna do everything yourself, huh? Do you think _I_ can't handle it?"

It was at this point of the argument that Clay usually stepped in, trying to cool things down while also telling Kimiko that maybe Raimundo had a point, that it wasn't just about him wanting to punch something but about them being a _team_ and how she kept straining herself by trying to do everything, as though she didn't trust them anymore, and he never said it explicitly but she could tell in his eyes that it pained him, not being trusted. And she would say of _course_ she trusted them, after everything they've been through together she'd trust them with her _life_ and then Raimundo would mutter something that would just start another argument and Clay would end up driving the Silver Manta Ray back to the temple, saying nothing.

But this time around, Clay was busy chasing after Jack. They had been doing that a lot lately, without Dojo to tell them when new Wu were activating. It was a struggle to even get there on time, not to mention even getting the Shen Gong Wu at all. But this time, Jack was still here and there was still a chance to not make this whole trip a waste. A chance Clay wasn't about to let go of, bickering teammates or no.

Which meant he wasn't there to stop Kimiko from saying, "Well, maybe if you were _faster_, you'd get to do something!"

Raimundo opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The frustration and anger that had been in his eyes withered and dulled. Kimiko could have probably gotten the same reaction out of him if she had physically punched him in the stomach.

"So that's how it is."

No it wasn't. Really, it wasn't. It was because as Jack realized that Omi wasn't coming back anytime soon, he reminded them about it every chance he got, every instance of verbal abuse getting meaner and meaner as the years went on and Kimiko knew that out of all of them, Raimundo was taking it the hardest. Because as his taunts got meaner and meaner, so did his robots, robots that robbed banks and shops so that he could make them even meaner. Kimiko could see that Jack was actually starting to follow up on his boasts about taking over the world, and it was scaring her that he could actually conceivably _succeed_. That one day they would fight him and…

But she didn't say any of this because she was the leader. Leaders didn't break under stress, didn't start crying out their worries to their subordinates as though they were her therapist. Leaders were supposed to be _strong_.

Clay came back empty-handed. The ride to the temple was done in utter silence. He found that he preferred the arguments.

* * *

At the age of thirty-seven, Jack took over the world. It took him ten years. For five of those years, Kimiko had been in one of his many cells, so the only reason she knew that Jack now had the whole world in his palm was because Jack himself strolled by to gloat about it.

It was during one of the rare times that she was clear-headed. Or as clear-headed as she got nowadays. When she saw Jack through bleary, tired eyes, she hadn't realized it was a special occasion. She pleaded as usual. Begged him to tell her what he had done with the others, just _tell_ her, it's been years already, it's not like she can do anything. Bargained even though she had nothing to bargain with, not anymore.

Back when the temple fell, when everybody was captured and separated, she used to demand. Not anymore.

Jack stood in front of her, leering in between two giant Jack-bot guards. "I suppose since I'm in such a good mood today…I'll give you a hint."

He told her three names. Shadow of Fear. Wushan Geyser. Mind Reader Conch.

"Anyways, I'm gonna be busy for the next few days. Ruler of the whole world and all. Impressed? Think I'm just some whiny loser _now_?"

Kimiko didn't answer because her head was buzzing with the new information.

They were alive.

She cried because _they were alive_! Somewhere, they were breathing, and maybe in the future she could see them and tell them that she was sorry, so sorry that she was a screw-up. And she cried because they were _alive_…they were alive to deal with the entire five years of psychological torture, of Jack methodologically wearing away at their spirits until there was nothing but dust, and then wearing _that_ away into nothingness as well.

Jack stared down at her, brow furrowed in disgust and disappointment. "You've gotten pathetic. But it's time for your hourly dose, isn't it?"

Her mind would be gone soon, but she didn't want to forget. She wouldn't let herself forget. This was too important.

They're alive they're alive they're alive they're alive they're alive they're alive they're alive

"Woozy Shooter."


	2. The Present

It was hot and stuffy in Miss Stock's classroom, but then again, it was always hot and stuffy in Texas. The AC unit that the principal had just scrounged up at some second-hand shop sputtered and coughed, doing nothing more than stirring up the warm air. And all that effort for only two people.

Clay stood in front of Miss Stock's desk, glancing towards the door. By now, the other children had run off to the busses, because not even the spectacle of a kid being told off by a teacher was enough of a draw for them to stay longer in school than they had to. Clay wished that Miss Stock would hurry up. If he missed the bus, then it would mean that his dad would have to drive all the way to school. On top of everything that had happened today, Clay did not want a long ride home made even longer by inescapable disapproval.

"Do you know why you're here?" said Miss Stock from behind her desk, hands folded in a sharp steeple. Clay stared straight ahead at her perfectly fake, red nails that clacked whenever she was losing patience. Looking up would have meant certain death, like looking into the face of Medusa. Miss Stock rarely got upset, and she had _never_ gotten upset with him. If he didn't look up, maybe he could pretend that she wasn't upset with him now.

Barely able to speak louder than the AC, Clay mumbled, "Yes'm." The red nails were suddenly making him think of blood, blood running down the claws of harpies. He focused instead on the kitschy cat paperweight that held down today's spelling quiz. The little kitten was curled up in a ball of soporific contentment. "'Cuz I punched Joshua inna nose."

"Clay," said Miss Stock, speaking with all the wisdom and authority that teachers held over children, "why did you punch Joshua in the nose?"

Because during lunch and recess, he always sat alone. Because he was by far the tallest and the widest kid in class. Because he could hear the others spread rumors about him being held back a grade or two and he couldn't tell if they thought he was listening or not. Because he felt embarrassed and uncomfortable talking to people and he didn't understand how everybody in class could hold conversations so easily. Because he was a farmboy, and that was considered rather backwoods even in a state that was generally thought of as backwoods. Because he had to wake up early every morning to do chores before walking an hour to the bus stop, then stay up late doing chores until he barely had time to go through homework and sleep. Because his daddy frowned whenever he read books at the table, turned off the TV when he wanted to watch figure skaters perform in the Winter Olympics, and loudly proclaimed that every single one of his interests were utterly useless and silly. Because he had started reading in secret when everybody was asleep to avoid having to deal with the constant disapproval, which of course cut into the precious little sleeping time he had. Because lately, he had started getting into fights with Jessie and he never understood why. Because two days ago, when he went out to refill the feeding troughs as usual, he found Suzie lying motionless in the dirt and his ma held his hand tight and his daddy talked to him about death and he hadn't really eaten much since then. There were many reasons, all of them a tangled mess in his mind, a knot of _stuff_ that was the foundation of his very being and definitely something that his eight-year-old brain couldn't put into words.

"'Cuz he called me fat," Clay said. This was only part of the truth. Joshua and friends had been calling him names for a while now. And actually, it had been 'fatass.'

Miss Stock sighed and folded her hands so that they looked less sharp and stern. Clay risked a glance up. Her brown eyes weren't as cold and hard as he expected, but they weren't soft with sympathy either. He liked Miss Stock, really. She recommended books to him and told him interesting little factoids and didn't look at him like he was an idiot when he asked questions, didn't tell him to _stop_ asking questions, didn't avoid answering questions. But there were times when he just felt uncomfortable around her and he didn't understand why. It was like…certain things she said…or…something in the way she treated him…? But that couldn't be it, because Miss Stock was nice. Maybe he was just weird or something.

"Clay, I didn't expect this from you. You're normally so much better than this," she said, and Clay's mind was weighed down by another anxiety. "You're a very smart boy. Why did you punch him?"

A repeated question. Clay struggled to think of another answer. "'Cuz I didn't know what t' do," he said, his voice muffled with shame.

"Well, violence was not the answer. You should have thought a little more, Clay, and then you would have realized that it doesn't matter what Joshua says or thinks about you, don't you think?"

Sticks an' stones may break my bones but words'll never hurt me. The words rose to his mind automatically and chided him for his foolishness. At the same time, he couldn't help but think about how much pain in his life came from words alone. But maybe that was because nobody had ever thrown a rock at him before. If he had ever broken a bone, he would have surely felt _real_ pain. The pain of words was just his imagination or something, fake feelings, faint echoes of what pain really was.

"I shoulda jus' ignored it, then," he mumbled.

"Or come and told me," Miss Stock added, her voice finally softening, which indicated that he was about to be let off soon. "Violence is what people do when they aren't smart enough to figure out the best solution to a problem. You want to be smart, don't you?"

Clay nodded numbly. Of course.

"Then act like it."

* * *

Adjusting to temple life was rough. It wasn't the training regimen; life on the farm inured him to little sleep and hard work. It wasn't the climate or the cuisine. It wasn't that he was homesick. He missed Texas, sure, but he practically leapt at the chance to gain experiences beyond farmlife. Daddy had said 'no,' just like he had said 'no' to college, 'no' to pretty much everything that Clay had wanted to do. But just this once, Daddy relented (and thank god for that; Clay would never admit this, but he partly wanted to go just to get a little breathing space from Daddy).

What was rough was that the people who were supposed to be his teammates thought so little of him, and he was aware of every snide comment they made. About where he came from. His weight. The way he talked. The way he ate. His intelligence.

If Chase Young hadn't been around, life would have been almost intolerable. No offense to Master Fung and all, but Chase was approachable and Chase didn't condescend. Chase told stories about his travels, about his past, ("You're fifteen hunnerd years old?" Clay had remarked with surprise. Chase grinned and held a finger to his lips. "Not quite.") about his adventures and about the lore of China. Chase practiced Tai-Chi, just like him, and was as eager to teach as Clay was eager to learn. Chase joined them during missions whenever he wasn't busy, but didn't interfere often. He stood back and observed and told them how they could have done things better and told them the things they did right. Chase seemed genuinely _interested_ when Clay talked about animals or literature or mythology or whatever he happened to want to talk about. Chase never called his interests silly and even thanked Clay for telling him new things.

Clay tried to talk to him as much as possible. It got to the point where Omi was visibly jealous whenever Chase talked to Clay instead of him. Which was kind of cute, up until Omi made a point to show him up whenever possible to reclaim Chase's attention. (This lead to a good, long, philosophical talk about people and human interaction and the concept of 'sonder.') It got to the point where, one time at dinner, after Omi left to do some more training with Chase, Raimundo tauntingly asked if he was in _lo-o-o-ove_.

As Raimundo rubbed his leg, yet another victim to one of Kimiko's kicks, Clay mulled over the question. "I reckon I'm 'bout as sharp as a mashed 'tater when it comes t' love, but I don' think this is it."

Raimundo dropped his smile. "I was joking, dude. You didn't have to answer that seriously."

Kimiko wasn't smiling either, but for a different reason. She stared intently at Clay's impassive face, chewing on her finger. "Clay…you know if there's something you want to tell us, you can tell us, right? We'll accept you no matter what. You don't have to be afraid of us."

"Uh, what?" Raimundo said, his hands clutching the table tightly. This conversation was _not_ going the way he expected, nor the way he wanted. He looked around in a panic, as though he was ready to bolt as soon as things got _drastically_ serious.

Clay's face twisted in embarrassment, but he continued to look straight at Kimiko. "I ain't gay."

Silence fell like an anvil, hard and painful. Kimiko had turned a bright shade of red. Raimundo was tense, trying to command himself to _abort, abort, run away, flip the table or something_, but finding himself frozen. Clay quietly continued to eat, his hat pulled low over his face.

"I'm _so _sorry," Kimiko finally blurted out. "It's just – you – sometimes when – the way you – "

"I _like_ Chase," Clay said, trying to explain even when his brain told him that he was digging a hole in awkwardness straight to the awkward core of the awkward planet. "I jus' think he's _nice_ t' me an' he don't mind talkin' t' me an' I'm never a bother or nothin'. 'Sides, he's too old fer me."

Raimundo recognized an attempt to escape the awkwardness event horizon and laughed desperately. "You got that right, man! Boy, that sure was a conversation that we'll _never speak about again_, so how 'bout this food, huh?"

Kimiko, on the other hand, recognized something in the words that Clay had used, something in the way he had said it, something in the small smile he made when he talked, a smile laced with sheer gratefulness for things that she realized she took for granted. "Clay…uh…were you…_happy_ in Texas…?"

"Oh my _god_," said Raimundo, and he flipped the table.

* * *

A few months after Clay moved to the temple, Guan appeared.

It happened as they were returning from New York (had its upsides, he supposed, but too many cars, and the _smell_…). Right as Dojo was about to land in the temple grounds, he was quite suddenly struck by some sort of spear…harpoon thing. As the blade dug itself under his scales, as the dragon screamed in pain, it was only then that anybody noticed the stranger standing on the roof of the vault.

The blade was attached to a chain, which was now retracting back into the man's weapon, taking Dojo down with it. Omi, who had immediately dropped down to the chain in attempts to wrench it out of Dojo's belly, could only focus on clinging on for dear life along with the rest of the monks as all five of them crashed into the vault. The ground shuddered when Dojo landed, blood gushing out of his wound, and it was a struggle for each of the monks to stand up again. The stranger was not similarly inconvenienced, and simply pulled his weapon out again with a sickening sound. Dojo let out a deep moan as his wound was made bigger.

Omi was the first up and he _launched_ himself into an attack, no questions asked. He lasted a few seconds before the man sent him flying with a well-placed palm strike.

Raimundo and Kimiko got to their feet, but hesitated. If Omi wasn't even able to make him sweat, then they weren't likely to be able to do much at all. Clay was the last one to stand, and without thinking, he tore his neckerchief off.

"Dojo," he cried out, leaning against the dragon's side. He couldn't tell if Dojo was even still conscious at this point. The rubble beneath his feet was slick with blood, which kept pouring out on his arms, his face, his pants… "Shrink down! _Shrink down!_"

There was no verbal response, and Dojo did not move for five long seconds. But then a familiar shiver ran down his serpentine body, and he shifted to lizard size. With the wound in a more manageable size, Clay quickly tied the red cloth around Dojo's body. His mind ran down what little medical knowledge he had, but the things he came up with seemed to slide right out of his ears as he stared down at the dragon in his hand and his neckerchief darkened with blood.

"Which one of you has the Serpent's Tail?" The stranger didn't quite ask the question, so much as demand that it be answered. He blocked another attack by Omi from behind and tossed the small child towards the others.

Without meaning to, Raimundo glanced towards Omi, who had managed to land on his feet. "Why do ya wanna know?" he retorted, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he was.

The man leveled his spear towards Raimundo's heart. "Do not trouble yourself over this. Only trouble yourself to hand it over."

"I was wondering when you would turn up, Guan."

The man named Guan wheeled around, his mangled eye widened in shock as he saw Chase standing there. "How are you – "

"Unlike you," Chase drawled, his tense arms folded casually, "I took a shortcut."

The two men stared at each other for a long while, both of them clearly itching to fight but neither of them wanting to be so low as to start it. The air sparked with electrified tension. And here they were, Clay thought grimly, standing smack dab in the middle of the metaphorical oil well.

Despite the atmosphere, Raimundo lowered his fighting stance. "Anybody else feel like they're…missing something here?"

"Be quiet," said Master Fung, and Raimundo nearly jumped out of his skin. The elder smoothly moved in front of the young monks, arms outstretched as though he could hide them from sight. "Go inside. Now."

"You mean _hide_?" Raimundo said, his mouth pulled back in a betrayed scowl. Clay set a hand on his shoulder, smearing blood on his clothes. He wordlessly put out his other hand to reveal the much-too-limp Dojo.

Raimundo bit his lip, eyes wavering. "But I can't just _leave_," he maintained.

As soon as Guan heard that and realized that his window of opportunity was shrinking, he spun around and shot the blade straight towards Raimundo. None of the young Dragons-in-Training even had time to react before Master Fung caught the blade between his hands. While Guan struggled to reclaim his weapon, Chase took the opportunity to strike at his back. Guan deflected the blow with a well-toned arm, and after that, the fight evolved into a series of graceful movements, attacks bleeding into attacks, a frenzied and controlled blur of motion that Clay couldn't keep up with. Master Fung pulled at the chain and caught Guan's spear. "_Go!_" he commanded once more, and this time everybody obeyed.

They didn't even make it halfway to the nearest door when a bright flash of light from behind stopped them in their tracks. The light was accompanied by the sound of space-time bending like a spoon. When Clay turned around, there was another Guan standing behind Master Fung.

Everybody looked shocked and confused, even Guan – the Guan that _hadn't_ just appeared in a flash of light, that is. (Clay automatically gave him the moniker, 'Guan-1.') Even Master Fung looked as though he was caught off-guard, something that Clay had never even seen before. But when Guan-2 took advantage of the element of surprise, the old man recovered enough to swing the spear and block the first attack – a punch aimed towards his head. But Master Fung was unable to keep a good grip on the weapon, and it was knocked away.

With his other hand, Guan-2 appeared to fling something at Master Fung's feet. "Ying Yo-Yo," he said impassively, and a portal appeared on the ground below the senior monk. Master Fung was able to fight men who were much younger-bodied than him, but he could not fight gravity. He fell, and the portal closed behind him.

Omi suddenly released a scream of anger and anguish and launched himself towards Guan-2 before anybody could stop him. He did not even attack with any particular form, merely threw his entire body into an ill-defined kick. Without pause, Guan-2 flicked the spear into the air with his foot and his other self caught it on instinct. Then he took out another object that looked like an hourglass and called out, "Sands of Time!" before he left just as he had come, leaving Omi to land on his hands and knees, wailing with rage.

Above the noise of loud crying, Guan said, "It seems to me that I do not need the Serpent's Tail after all." He turned and leapt onto a roof.

"Don't – " said Chase, but Guan was already gone. The monks were left with a vast, unsatisfiable absence.

Omi was still sobbing on the ground, but a dull shiver in his hands reminded Clay of more pressing matters. Giving an apologetic glance towards the group, he headed towards the infirmary with a self-conscious gait.

* * *

The temple mourned. Chase set up a modest altar. Omi religiously lit incense. Dojo cried a lot, blaming himself.

Clay felt like an intruder. He had only known Master Fung for a few months. The man was pretty wise, sure, but it wasn't like he lived with him his whole life. Still, he tried to do his best to console Omi and Dojo and assure Kimiko and Raimundo that they weren't alone in feeling distant and not as emotional as they should.

But eventually, they had to move on.

"Many years ago, Grand Master Dashi and I imprisoned a great evil named Hannibal Roy Bean."

Clay furrowed his brow, recognizing two-thirds of the name, but he decided not to interrupt.

"We imprisoned him in a place called the Ying-Yang World – and this is where Guan has sent Master Fung, using the Ying Yo-Yo."

From his seat, Omi dug his fingernails into the table. "So we must battle Guan for the Ying Yo-Yo to save Master Fung."

"Not quite," Chase replied after a sip of tea. "The Ying Yo-Yo has a sister Wu, the Yang Yo-Yo. It is imperative that we have both. If you try to leave the Ying-Yang World with only one of them, upon exiting, your dominant chi will be switched with your subordinate chi."

Omi's expression was of shocked clarity. The rest were a mixture of confusion and apathy.

"You turn evil," Dojo explained. There was a collective, soft, 'oh.'

"I believe Guan's plan is to release Hannibal once more, and for that he will need the Yang Yo-Yo. In this case, the best course of action is to locate the Yang Yo-Yo as fast as possible and obtain it before he does."

"Okaaay," said Kimiko, who had experienced her fair share of weird mystical stuff by now to build up a tolerance, yet this whole thing was _still_ pushing her suspension of disbelief. "So where is it?"

"I wasn't the one who hid the Wu," Chase said, turning towards Dojo.

The dragon stopped picking at his bandages to strike an affronted pose. "Look, if I _remembered_ every little hiding spot, you think we'd have to _wait_ for Wu to activate?"

"So basically," Raimundo said, setting an elbow roughly on the table and dumping his chin onto his hand, "we wait and do nothing."

"We do have another task set for us, however." Chase finished draining his cup and set it down with a small clack. "We work to keep the Sands of Time and the Ying Yo-Yo out of Guan's grasp for as long as we are able."

Raimundo let out a frustrated groan. "What's the _point_? He _already_ has them – or will have them or whatever! 'Sides, Dojo doesn't know where they are, and there's no telling when they'll activate or whatever, right? So it's back to square one!"

"Not quite," said Chase with a small smile, and he led them towards the rock garden.

His smile quickly vanished as he stared at an empty place which, Clay deduced, wasn't supposed to be empty. "How did he – "

Raimundo hadn't even followed the group all the way. Instead, he had stopped right at the edge of the rock garden to lean against a nearby tree with his arms crossed. "I hate to break it to ya, Chase," he said, his voice not condescending, but disappointed, "but Guan has – will have – the Sands of Time. He can be anywhere and any_when_ he wants, dude."

Kimiko rubbed at her forehead. She wasn't quite getting a headache yet, but she knew when one was about to form. "Okay, wait. If he got the Sands of Time by time travelling using the Sands of Time, how did he get the Sands of Time _before_ getting the Sands of Time?"

"I reckon it's somethin' like this," Clay started. Some of the stories he had read back in his childhood were about time travel. After a few of those, his mind just automatically made simple time loops in his head. "Guan picks up th' Sands of Time here usin' th' Sands of Time, then time travels to meet himself in the past t' give him th' Sands of Time he jus' picked up. Then he tells himself where t' find it 'fore skedaddlin' off t' his own time. Past Guan then uses th' Sands of Time t' pick up the Sands of Time an' completes th' loop."

Raimundo's eyebrows raised in surprise, but he snapped and pointed at Clay. "Got it in one, big guy."

"But…wait…" Kimiko said, and _here_ comes the headache. "But…how did he _know_ where to go to find it?"

"He told himself," Raimundo and Clay answered at the same time.

"But," said Omi, clearly in the same camp as Kimiko, "if he told _himself_, then he had to have found out…I mean…_because_ he…"

Raimundo rolled his eyes. "You're overcomplicating it. He told himself where to find it. That's all there is. The point is, how can we beat someone with a time machine? He can be anywhere at any time he wants. He can attack us at any moment, and we'd be completely unprepared. He could even just pop in, right now, with a whole army of himself from different points in time, just to beat us up."

Everybody stiffened for a few seconds, but the rock garden remained sparsely populated.

Chase slowly relaxed. "Despite your pessimism, I am certain we will find a way to take the Sands of Time back."

Raimundo's eyes stared dully at Chase, heavily shadowed under his brow. With deep resignation, he uncrossed his arms and pushed himself away from the tree. And without saying a word, he walked back inside.

Kimiko soon followed after, glancing back apologetically. Her steps pattered on the stone path, all the way to the residential building. After a long pause, Omi left as well, his steps soundless and measured. He didn't look back at all.

Clay looked at Chase, who had taken every leave with a strange, stoic sadness. But there was understanding written all over his face, an understanding that everybody needed time to cope with this new threat, and that they needed to cope in different ways. That the Final Boss, so to speak, had appeared before all four of them had barely gotten to level one.

"How d'ya know we'll get it back?" he asked.

Chase replaced the rock that had covered the former hiding place. "I am not sure if I should tell you. It…involves time travel."

Clay shrugged. "Tellin' me or not ain't gonna change nothin'. 'Sides, y'already'll tell me or not. Y'know?"

Chase sighed, still crouched down by the rock, even after he had moved it back to its former position. "No, I don't."

Clay said nothing. Trying to explain tenses when it came to time travel would be as pointless as whistling up the wind.

When Chase straightened up, he sighed once more. "You see, fifteen hundred years ago…I saw Omi. He fought with us in the war against Wuya. Because of this…that must mean we eventually get the Sands of Time back. Otherwise I would have not seen Omi…right…?"

During the whole mourning period, Chase had not let his face slip into anything other than somber determination. Even when he had watched Master Fung fall into the Ying-Yang World, he was mostly shocked, but not worried, never worried. There had always been a confidence that Clay associated with the man.

Chase looked at him, his eyebrows twisted upwards in worry. There was desperation in his eyes, an absence that begged to be filled with validation that he was right in his reasoning.

"Yeah, 'course," Clay said.

But when he walked back to his room, shoulders heavy with the burden of recent events, his mind wandered through time loops and attempted to map out a path. He tore several pieces of paper out of his notebook and walked the short distance to Kimiko's room.

"What time's it?" he asked, already knowing that she would be on her computer.

"Half past six," Kimiko replied before twisting around in her chair. "Why?"

Clay didn't give an answer. He simply walked up to her crowded desk and started scrawling the date and time on every piece of paper, as well as his current location: Kimiko's room. And with every piece of paper he filled out, he mentally assigned a place for each of them. One he'd keep in his pocket. One he'd tape on the wall of his room. One taped on the mirror of the bathroom, one as an extra in case he accidentally washed one with his pants…

Kimiko had scooched her chair over to make room for the large Texan and waited silently as he wrote. When she saw that he was finished, she finally asked, "What's this all about?"

"'Right, yer my witness, okay?" Clay said. Kimiko only nodded, sensing the answer was coming next. "Okay. If we ever wrangle that Sands of Time back from Guan, then I swear t' travel t' _this_ place at _this_ exact time t' tell us that we do. An' if I can't, then you gotta."

"What if I can't?" Kimiko asked, before adding, "I guess I could tell Rai to." But Clay wasn't listening. Instead, he turned around.

Nobody else stood in Kimiko's room besides them. Certainly nobody with good news from the future.

Kimiko at least understood that something was supposed to happen. "So…what does this mean?"

Clay didn't answer.

* * *

When the Ying Yo-Yo finally revealed itself, the monks practically ran over themselves to get to it first, faster than a sneeze through a screen door. Even so, when they arrived, they found that someone was already there.

That wasn't a new experience, not with Guan and the Sands of Time. Clay was used to this by now, seeing Guan leaving just as they arrived.

What he wasn't used to was seeing himself arriving before he had.

Right where the Ying Yo-Yo was supposed to be, Clay and Guan were clutching onto a brightly-glowing object. In confusion, Clay almost blanked out, the world around him echoing like a dropped fishbowl. The him that was glaring at Guan shouted something, but the words bounced away into nothingness.

And then he understood.

Behind them, there was a hauntingly familiar flash and pop. Clay whirled around and reached out blindly for the touch of glass. As soon as his hand closed around something smooth and bulb-shaped, he shouted, "Sands of Time!"

There was a hauntingly familiar flash and pop. Clay found out the hard way that time travel didn't agree with his stomach. His entire mind lurched and continued lurching even when he stopped moving without moving at all.

He opened his eyes. Guan had instinctively reached out to grab the Ying Yo-Yo. The Sands of Time was glowing. Out of the corner of his eye, Clay could see himself arriving. "I challenge you to a Xiaolin Showdown," he said, his voice grating against his dry tongue. "Yer Ying Yo-Yo 'gainst my Third Arm Sash. Th' game…th' game is…"

Shit. He hadn't heard this part. Couldn't be a direct fight, he'd be trounced in an instant. It had to be…had to…

Clay's eyes slid towards the Ying Yo-Yo. It had to be something that forced Guan into the Ying-Yang World. Then when he came back out…

"Flag Football!" he stammered out right as he saw himself disappear in a hauntingly familiar flash and pop.

If Guan was unfamiliar with the rules, he didn't show it – instead, he nodded in acceptance.

As the trees caged them inside, as the Sands of Time circled ever upwards out of reach, as Clay felt a bright scarf tuck itself into his sash, he couldn't help but think.

"Third Arm Sash!" The blue ribbon shot out with fervor, but Guan jumped nimbly away and disappeared into the forest.

This was probably the _only_ chance they'd have at getting the Sands of Time. Guan would likely never make a fumble like this ever again.

Clay tried to follow, but quickly lost sight of the man. With shaking hands, he pounded his fists on the earth and shook the trees down to their roots. There was the sound of movement behind him and he whirled around, the Third Arm Sash already raised to block Guan's reaching hands. Working on automatic, his legs propelled himself backwards to gain some distance and as soon as he realized this, he cursed himself. He should have gone for Guan's scarf. From somewhere he couldn't see, Clay heard Raimundo's faint call to "stop being all weird and throw a freaking punch for once." Clay's mind recoiled at the thought of it, conjuring up images of Medusa and blood flowing down the claws of harpies.

And if he failed here, if he let Guan take both the Sands of Time _and_ the Ying Yo-Yo, there's no question what he would do next…

Guan didn't bother to try hiding anymore and instead went for a full offense, barely giving time for Clay to even react to each of his many attacks. He parried the blows and returned very few, and even the hits that connected seemed to glide right off of Guan, who never even looked like he was going to use the Ying Yo-Yo.

Clay couldn't help but think. Think that it wasn't possible for him to win. He knew because of the paper that was in his pocket. Because when he had written down all those notes, nobody came to assure him that there even existed a way to _win_…

As though he could peer into Clay's mind, Guan said, "There is no way you can prevent this. You saw as well as I. I will take both the Sands of Time and the Ying Yo-Yo and there is nothing you can do."

Clay stumbled, and that was all it took for Guan's prediction to come true. The game ended. Guan threw away the Third Arm Sash and disappeared in a distressingly familiar flash and pop. Clay lay on his back and stared upwards even as Omi shouted at him through furious tears and Raimundo told him that he should really go on the offense more and Kimiko tried to get everybody to _shut up_ because this wasn't helping and Dojo just asked if he was alright.

And he said no, because everything was a pointless struggle.

Late at night, Raimundo found Clay sitting in the kitchen and sat down beside him without a word. Not even going for the obvious joke. All the more surprising, since Clay had gone with the specific intention of eating his troubling thoughts away. But not unwelcome.

Raimundo brought his knees up to his chin and tapped on them with his fingers. He didn't even look at Clay because if he did, he probably would have got up and left again. Clay, for his part, recognized that Raimundo was trying to concentrate on what to say and remained as silent as possible while he slurped down porridge. Not his first choice for midnight snack, but something that there were always leftovers of.

"Y'know," said Raimundo, apparently giving up on starting with a proper set-up, "even if the future's all defined and all, doesn't mean we know what happens. Right?"

"Hm." Clay traced the floorboards with his toe.

"And whatever's gonna happen, it's not necessarily going to be bad…or whatever."

"Hm."

"So…like…the point is, y'know…it's not pointless to do your best. Or something. That's what I figure, I guess…"

Clay finished off his porridge. "I reckon you might oughta get some sleep."

Raimundo's face visibly fell, and he dragged his feet on the way back to the door. But before leaving, he stopped. "Y'know you were pretty cool back there, right…? Like…that whole thing. And the way you were trying to…uh…y'know."

Clay didn't open his mouth, because if he did, he would have called Raimundo a liar.

* * *

They didn't see Guan for a long while after that, and as a result, the temple relaxed. Chase continued to guard the vault at all times, refusing to let anybody else take the post, but even he started actually eating at the table instead of taking his food out. Omi was starting to look the way a kid his age should look, energetic, peppy, almost aggressively optimistic. And he started talking to Clay again. Part of the reason was probably because they only had to worry about Jack for now, and Jack was the perfect antagonist. Not so threatening, but still a big morale booster whenever he was beaten.

Of course, the long absence was worrying, but everybody made a nonverbal agreement to not talk about it. The days soon dropped into a comforting rhythm of getting Wu and beating up Jack, who was starting to bitterly complain that they weren't taking him seriously at _all_.

But of course, the rhythm had to eventually be broken.

It happened during the fight over the Moby Morpher. Right when Clay was about to lasso Jack's leg, he heard a hauntingly familiar pop and almost dropped his rope. As one, the four monks stopped what they were doing and turned towards the sound, leaving Jack to be forgotten.

"_What are you waiting for?!" _Wuya nagged, flying in front of Jack's face. "_You have the Moby Morpher! Let's go!_"

"But they're _ignoring_ me," Jack whined while waving a forlorn arm towards the scene below. Then he actually looked down and squinted. "Wait a sec, is that _me_?"

This time around, Guan did not appear as an imposing figure, but in the middle of a struggle. With Jack of all people, whose feet couldn't even touch the ground as he flailed wildly, trying to grab at the Ying – no wait, the Yang Yo-Yo while maintaining his limp grip on the Sands of Time. Neither of them seemed to notice that the magical hourglass was glowing.

Clay, frozen in bewilderment, was dimly aware that Guan was much too distracted to pay close attention to his surroundings. The Yang Yo-Yo gleamed tauntingly in Guan's outstretched hand. It was only a lasso away.

And despite this, it was Raimundo who jumped forward, clapping his hands together and forming a harsh gust of wind that tore at Guan's hand and pushed at the small Wu until it slipped out and fell to the ground.

In an instant, Clay was shouting, "Jack! Challenge him t' a Showdown!" (Still hovering a few feet above the scene, Jack turned at the sound of his name and scowled when he realized that, yes, everybody was still ignoring him. Wuya disregarded this and continued demanding that Jack tell her _why_ he was fighting Guan down there and for the second time, Jack told her that he didn't know 'cause it hadn't happened yet. Well, yeah, it was happening _now_, right below their feet, but _technically_ for him it hadn't happened yet. Wuya rubbed at her mask-like face and remembered that the reason she decided against abandoning Jack for Guan was because _time travel was stupid_.)

"Oh, right!" Jack said brightly, still dangling from the Sands of Time, and Clay winced because while Jack sounded like Jack, he didn't _sound_ like Jack. He didn't quite look like Jack either, even when he looked exactly like Jack. His smile was too sincere. His eyes too wide.

Jack turned back to Guan, but before he could say anything, Guan managed to axe kick him to the ground. Even from back where he was standing, Clay could hear the sharp snap of ribs breaking and the painful intake of breath. And before he knew it, he was running, feet pounding ever faster as he saw Guan kick Jack once more in the stomach, saw him set his foot on Jack's head like a gas pedal and…

Guan jumped back to avoid the two large boulders that had been aimed at his head. A slab of earth shifted in front of Jack, concealing him from view, and Clay vaulted over the makeshift wall to land in front of Guan. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Omi and Kimiko flank Guan on either side. He didn't put much thought into where Raimundo was.

And then Jack came rocketing down, right into Guan's face.

"Woah, _woah!_ What the _heck_ was that?! Were you going to _kill_ me?!"

The three monks didn't move, mostly because _seriously_, Jack? Your first instinct when you saw a big powerful scorpion guy trying to crush your head was to _shout_ at him?

"_Jack, you _miserable _buffoon, just leave already while we have the Moby Morpher!_"

"Hey guys," Raimundo called out, "I got the Yo-Yo doodad!"

And then all hell broke loose.

Guan simultaneously appeared and disappeared. He disappeared with a "Sands of Time!" and appeared behind Raimundo to deliver a kick to the head. Raimundo shakily got to his feet as Guan picked up the Yang Yo-Yo again, and fell into a fighting stance. Kimiko was already running full force towards the two, and Omi was a few steps behind. Clay hesitated, lingered with the Jacks, but eventually started to jog when all that happened was more of Jack's complaining. He hadn't taken even three steps when he saw a hauntingly familiar flash come from behind.

"He didn't even answer my question!" Jack said as Clay turned around and saw another Guan standing behind him with a bird he didn't recognize on his shoulder. The flash of light had caught Wuya's attention too, and she looked between the two Guans with an expression of utter distaste, because _time travel_.

The unrecognizable bird took off and dived towards Jack's back. Jack didn't even notice anything until his collar was in the grasp of the bird's talons, and before he could even finish his yelp, he, and the bird, disappeared into a portal that had magically appeared out of thin air.

While that was happening, Clay heard surprised shouts back where his friends were and turned around just as Wuya started shouting at Guan. "_He was a useless twit, but he was my _only_ way to get Wu!"_

Back where his friends were dealing with the other Guan, Clay saw that someone different had come in, dressed in a gaudy yellow and carrying the Sands of Time. There was a flash of red hair and with a sinking heart, Clay realized that this was _another_ Jack Spicer. The struggle over the Yang Yo-Yo turned into a struggle over the Yang Yo-Yo _and_ the Sands of Time. Once again, Clay took a few steps towards them, but found himself stopped by voices behind him.

"Perhaps you will lighten up if I show you what I have for you."

"_The Serpent's Tail and the Reversing Mirror?_"

How did Guan get those? No wait, stupid question. Time travel.

At this, Dojo peeked out from under Clay's hat. "The Serpent's – Clay! This is _bad_ news! You gotta – "

Clay didn't need to hear anything else. With a flick of his rope, he managed to lasso the Reversing Mirror and was just about to pull when Guan said, "Serpent's Tail!"

Clay's rope slipped uselessly through the Mirror and Clay fell onto his back. His hat tumbled off his head, Dojo falling off with it, and from his position, he had an upside-down view of the struggle his friends (and Jack) was going through. Somehow, Jack had gotten ahold of Guan's Sands of Time and was now making his escape. Guan made a desperate move to grab Jack, but he was already gone with a familiar flash and pop.

And then Clay was intensely distracted by a rough kick in the side.

Guan loomed over him, looking ready to set a foot on his skull the same way he did (or will do?) Jack's. Knowing that his ribs would not forgive him, he rolled away before anything could slam onto his face.

From the other fight, Guan called out to himself. "Don't bother! Just do it and get the Ying Yo-Yo!"

As Clay struggled to his feet, he heard the nearby call of "Serpent's Tail!" And then a few seconds later, "_Reversing Mirror!"_

From further away, he heard "Ying Yang Yo-Yo!"

And as an eerie green glow started to bathe the mountain, as the sky darkened and the sun was eclipsed by something that was _definitely_ not the moon, as Clay picked up his hat and started backing away, he saw Guan disappear in a hauntingly familiar flash and pop.

Wuya stood – _actually stood_ – before him, radiating green fire and power. He heard a different sound behind him and reluctantly turned around just in time to see Guan reemerge from another portal, accompanied by – and here he had to squint – a small, talking bean.

Omi, Raimundo, and Kimiko had backed away from their fight as well and they now bumped into Clay's back. Inside his hat, Dojo was freaking out.

"That's it! This is the _worst possible situation_! We're getting _out_ of here!" And in an instant, Dojo was at flying size, not even waiting for them to jump on but practically tossing them onto his back.

"Wait, we gotta pick up Jack," Clay said, and because nobody wanted to waste precious time arguing while two beings and one bean radiating immense power were approaching them, Dojo just scooped the prone figure into his hands and they were off, flying faster than they ever had before.

At the temple, Clay spent the rest of the night trying to map out a timeline.

* * *

Chase's mood was dark for a few days when they told him the news, and so everybody avoided him when they could. Instead, they hung around Jack, hoping for some explanations.

When Jack recovered, it was clear that he…wasn't quite Jack. Raimundo thought him more obnoxious than ever and decided that he couldn't even stand to be in the same room as him. Omi, when he figured out that this Jack from the future must have come from the Ying-Yang World, asked him whether he had seen Master Fung. When Jack said no, he left as well, his mood as sour as it had been that one night long ago. Kimiko pelted him with questions about the Sands of Time and where he took them, but Jack didn't know because he hadn't lived through that moment quite yet. Hadn't found where he had (will have) hid them. She left eventually as well.

Clay stayed, but he didn't know whether it was because he had questions as well or because he felt pity. The Jack that was lying in bed, bandages around his ribs and head, he wasn't Jack. Or at least he was Jack, but with no autonomy. The fact that he had (will have) taken the Sands of Time from Guan was something Clay appreciated. But he also couldn't avoid the thought that the action was just like an action done while brainwashed, or under coercion. It hadn't been Jack's choice. He looked so _happy_. But that wasn't quite Jack's choice either. Clay thought about dystopian fiction and shivered. He thought about how he would act if it had been him instead of Jack, how he would make choices under what he thought was his own power, but ultimately wasn't. How he would be in control and out of control at the same time. Would there be a part of him that recognized what he was doing? Would there be a part that screamed and shouted and curled up and died in sorrow and guilt?

"Why don'cher git some shut-eye?" Clay said out loud, grimacing when Jack just beamed up at him.

"Aw, don't worry about me! Don't you have any questions too?"

He did. Of course he did. What happened in the Ying-Yang World? How did Guan get the Yang Yo-Yo? Did he see any of them in the future? Were they okay? Were they hurt? Was someone…missing?

"Naw, I reckon everybody else covered everythin'."

Raimundo was waiting for him at the door. "Chase's calling a meeting."

The meeting was held at the dining table, mostly because there weren't many tables to have meetings at. Nobody really looked at each other.

"With Wuya revived and Hannibal released, they will surely attack us at some point. It seems the best course of action would be to take the Shen Gong Wu and go into hiding somewhere."

Nobody spoke up.

"_But_," Chase said with a heavy sigh, "Jack's condition…complicates matters. Moving him would likely aggravate his wounds. But leaving him behind is not an option."

Raimundo opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it.

"We will have to wait here until Jack recovers. In the meantime, nobody leaves the temple. Not even for activated Shen Gong Wu."

At this, there was a downpour of protests.

"What, we're letting them just _take_ 'em without a fight?!"

"I thought the whole point was to keep the Wu out of the wrong hands!"

"In this time of disorder, it would not be _right_ to sit and do _nothing_!"

"_I know_!" Chase shouted, and everybody was shocked into silence because Chase had never needed to shout before. He was standing now, hands firm against the tabletop. But as though suddenly self-conscious, he relaxed and sat down again. "But I cannot let you leave without my supervision, not now with Wuya, Guan, and Hannibal about."

"What if you come with us, then?" said Kimiko.

"And leave the temple unattended? I cannot do that either. The safest thing to do right now is just stay here and wait for Jack to recover."

"_No!_" said Omi, standing up in his chair. It was the first time Clay had ever seen him raise his voice to Chase. "I am _tired_ of waiting! We waited for the Ying Yo-Yo, we waited for a _chance_ to beat Guan, a _chance _to free Master Fung, and it has gotten us nowhere! The Sands of Time are hidden away from Guan now, this is our chance to find it and stop everything before it happens, and you want us to _wait?!_"

Chase's fingers dug into the table, but he did not stand again. "Omi," he said sharply, "I understand your frustration, but _calm_ yourself and be patient – "

"I _have_ been patient! I've been _very_ patient, and now that a way to finally _beat_ Guan has appeared, you want me to _not_ take it?!"

"Omi has a point," said Dojo, not particularly used to speaking up in these sorts of meetings. He wrung his hands and looked down at the table. "I mean…if we had the Sands of Time…with all the things that Guan did, think of what _we_ could do…y'know? Like, maybe…Master Fung won't have to be sent to the Ying-Yang World…"

With a loud sigh, Raimundo leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "If we were able to stop Master Fung from falling into the Ying-Yang World, then it would've _already happened_. And we wouldn't even _be_ in this situation."

"But what if we did? Maybe one of us went back in time and did some trick – "

"First of all, we all saw it with our own eyes. Second, then where is he now? _Why_ would he make us think he's gone when he's, I dunno, drinking tea in some underground bunker? If he _is_ safe and sound – which he isn't – then keeping us all in suspense or whatever is a di – " Raimundo's eyes suddenly slid to where Omi stood and his tongue stumbled. "It's…well…it'd be…really sucky."

Omi's eyes were now tearing up and he was obviously struggling to hold himself together. "You aren't even _trying!_ You're giving up without even _doing_ anything!"

"Look Omi," Clay said, his voice trying to be as soft and understanding as possible. With a start, he realized that he was trying to talk like his old elementary school teacher. "It ain't jus' a matter o' figurin' where t' look, but also _when_ t' look. There ain't no way o' knowin' what time that Jack came from until that time passes. An' if we don't know that, there ain't no point in startin'."

The meeting broke up with hoarse throats and unresolved debates.

The next morning, Clay found that Omi and Dojo had disappeared.

* * *

The fight above ground rocked the entire vault and rocked the guilt right into Clay, but he simply continued to stuff Wu into his sack because it needed to be done. A few steps below him, Jack did the same, his cheerfulness not even abating in the face of possible destruction. He had been healed up for quite a while now, but it was unanimously decided that they should wait for Omi and Dojo for as long as possible.

Right now, they couldn't wait any longer.

Another attack rocked the ground and Clay shouted, "That's enough! We gotta git!"

"Alllllrighty!" Jack trilled, his voice like butterflies made of ice slipping down the Texan's neck. Clay sprinted up the stairs. Jack skipped.

As soon as Clay's head reached ground level, there was a heartrending crash as the wall of the vault was broken down by the time-tested method of throwing someone through it. Wuya stood in the newly-made hole, her eyes crackling with mirth and danger and her shadow looming over Raimundo's prone body. When Clay rushed over to throw him over his shoulder, he wriggled in protest. "I can stand just fine," he said, but by the looks of it, Wuya was charging up another shot so Clay ignored Raimundo in favor of getting out of the vault ASAP.

Another explosion rocked the vault as he jumped out onto the temple grounds and craned his neck around for the others. "Can you put me down _now_?" Raimundo asked, trying to find a comfortable position on Clay's shoulder. He continued to be ignored.

Near the main hall, Clay could see Kimiko, who was extremely noticeable on account of being completely wreathed in flames. Despite this, Hannibal was putting up a rather good fight. Part of it was the Moby Morpher. Part of it was that he was clearly saying something that was upsetting her, riling her up so her attacks went wide and her defense was sloppy at best.

Taking a running start (and jostling Raimundo so that he banged his chin against his back), Clay jumped and delivered a flying kick to the side of Hannibal's head.

"Where's Chase?" he asked, wrapping the end of the bag around his palm to get a better grip on it.

Kimiko extinguished herself and said, "Still fighting Guan inside."

"Uh-oh," said Raimundo, still looking behind them. Clay didn't even need to turn around to see what he was talking about because at that point, a blast of green fire shot past his head.

With one smooth movement, Clay scooped Kimiko up and under his arm. And, noticing that it had been a while since he heard Jack say anything, he looked back and sighed, seeing that the redhead had only just caught up to them. "Jack. Jump on my back."

"Woah, what? Hold on, wait – " Raimundo said, but Jack was already jumping, the bag in his hand swinging around and thumping Clay in the chest. "Aaagh nooooo," he groaned out, finding his face uncomfortably close to Jack's armpit.

"You know, I can run _myself_," Kimiko told Clay as he barged into the main hall right before Hannibal got up again and made a swipe for his head.

Chase and Guan were inside, but standing across from each other. Apparently, Clay had run in during a lull in their fight. Even so, when he stumbled inside, Guan still had enough energy to turn around and launch his spear's blade towards him. Clay dodged it with a duck, blurted out an automatic "Sorry," and skittered his way over to Chase's side just as Wuya and Hannibal rushed in as well.

They participated in a good old Mexican standoff, if Mexican standoffs had a constant soundtrack of people pestering someone to _let them down already_.

Chase glanced at the door behind him without turning around and leaned towards Clay. "Take everybody and run. I will stay and keep them from following you."

The protests about not having their feet on the floor turned into protests against a heroic sacrifice. "Dude, if we lose you, we're _toast!_"

"Gotta agree with Rai on this one, no offense," Clay added, not taking his eyes off of the trio in front of them.

Chase resisted the urge to rub his temples. "There is _no_ other way. We cannot simply _run_; either we will be forced to keep running for the rest of our lives, or they will catch up and _kill_ us. And I won't listen to any volunteers to stay behind in my stead."

"Actually," Clay said, his voice low and hoarse, "I…might got an idea…"

Chase spared a moment to look down at him. His eyes, Clay noticed, was full of wary hope.

"But'cha gotta git ready t' run."

Chase only stared at him for a few more precious, long seconds before he gave a nod so short that Clay wondered if he imagined it.

The three imposing figures in front of them were approaching now, and by the way they tensed, Clay knew they were about to pounce. He bit his lip, questioned himself, thought back to his rural Texas life, wondered if he would ever hang out with Jessie like they used to, and apologized to Chase, to Dojo, to Omi, to Master Fung, right as he delivered a heavy stomp to the floor.

The rafters did not even bother with the pretense of shaking and simply collapsed. The walls caved in. Wuya growled and leapt forward, but was suddenly pinned to the floor by rubble, which didn't hold her for long, but at the same time, made her lose sight of the monks as clouds of dust billowed up and obscured everything. Clay jumped backwards out the doorway and started to run even before he turned himself around. While moving backwards, he saw that Chase had lingered for half a second, and before facing forward, he saw the look of loss written on his face.

They ran the whole night through the forest, feet pounding on the ground, breaking dead branches, heart pounding in his chest as bags of Wu pounded on his body with every step he took. Kimiko and Raimundo had stopped asking him to put them down, but only because the act of speaking felt like it would summon Guan, or Wuya, maybe Hannibal, maybe all three. They saw a green glow somewhere behind them, as though Wuya was razing the forest down, but it was far off. They were nowhere near. And yet, nobody took comfort in this. Clay didn't slow down until they reached the cave that Chase had told them to go to in the case of an emergency evacuation.

It was only when he set everybody down that he found the cuts and bruises running down his leg and his chest, from where the bags had banged against him.

The cave was cold and nobody dared to start a fire, but exhaustion still managed to wind its way into everybody's bones. Even so, Clay found he couldn't sleep. Not when thoughts of being found wormed their way into his mind whenever he closed his eyes. He ended up staring at the mouth of the cave, appointing himself as the night watch while everybody else dozed off.

But not quite everybody else.

Chase Young plopped down next to him, his face full of mournful thunder.

They sat in silence, even though Clay was bursting with pain and stress and fear and a desperate need to break down. Eventually, he built up the courage to talk – but only in a whisper. Just in case Guan was just around the corner.

"I'm…I'm sorry I…"

"Don't be." Chase's eyes never moved from the entrance, but his hand found its way to Clay's shoulder. "You may have well just saved my life."

Clay lowered his hat over his face and didn't dare open his mouth in case all that came out were embarrassed squeaks.

"This may not be a good time," Chase continued, apparently not noticing Clay's distress, "but that might be all the more reason to talk about this. Hannibal, Wuya, and Guan are loose and Omi and Dojo are still missing. The situation is dire. Which is why it has become most apparent that we need a leader."

Clay didn't realize that he was able to feel even more pain than he did now, but his stomach twisted and his throat constricted tight with added anxiety. It was a strange thing to feel in combination with the leftover flattery. "But Chase…_yer_ th' leader…right?"

"I'm not sure that I can be around forever. With everything that has happened, it is getting increasingly likelier that…something will happen to me." Chase's eyes flashed like lightning as he choked out the last words, dull lightning that struck at the last vestiges of confidence that Chase used to hold in abundance. "I need to be sure that everybody will be in good hands. And besides…I don't believe myself to be good leader material…"

"Now that ain't true, you – "

"All I ever did was stay at the temple, Clay." With a sigh, Chase brought his knees to his chin. "That's not what a leader does."

At this point, Clay's stomach had worked itself into a Gordion knot seeing Chase so small, so _vulnerable_. His tongue stuck in his mouth as he said, "Well, I ain't good leader material neither, I figure. I mean…mostly I jus' screw up."

Chase uncurled and gave a sharp glance towards Clay. "Why do you talk yourself down? Didn't I just tell you that you saved my life?"

The Gordion knot collapsed into a black hole, sucking in all mental functions that Clay might have. Simultaneously, his face started to flush. "I – uh, er – "

"You're smart, Clay. You know things that I don't. You think of good plans – you just thought of a better plan than I did, back there, that resulted in no casualties! You're practical. You made sure that we went out with at least some of our Wu." After counting off the list, Chase clapped his hand on Clay's shoulder once more. In response, Clay blushed even more, hoping that Chase couldn't see in the dark just how much his insides were writhing in cautious joy. "You're good leader material."

Along with the pain and the fear and the exhaustion and the embarrassment and the anxiety, all of which filled him to bursting point, Clay felt an immense happiness, painful happiness that stretched the skin of his heart and turned it inside-out. He couldn't tell if he was smiling, though his cheeks definitely hurt, but he could tell that he was blushing way too much. He finally had to turn away.

Chase didn't even say anything really spectacular. His words shouldn't have made him feel so, so…_good_. No, not good, not exactly, but…just…good about _himself_. With a start, Clay realized that this was the first time in his life that he received a compliment so sincere, so targeted at him specifically. His daddy was never big on the praise front. His teachers didn't really bond with him beyond what was necessary. Jessie…left him. Not even his friends said much beyond generic phrases like 'good job' and 'way to go,' not because they were malicious or they didn't care, but…it wasn't like he deserved much more than that, right? He'd never done anything…_spectacular_.

But Chase sure made him sound spectacular. He almost got him thinking he was spectacular too.

Clay still didn't really think he was good leader material, but he could still feel Chase's gaze on his back and welling pride in his heart and self-confidence that…he just never felt before.

"Alright, I'll try," he said, or at least tried to, but all that came out was an embarrassed squeak.

* * *

After a few days, they risked sneaking out to gather supplies at the nearest village, only to find that the village had been burned down. There were no signs of life beyond abandoned livestock who had miraculously survived. So they just set their base of operations here. It was a good place, Clay judged; level ground so that they could see people coming, tillable earth that could perhaps be tempted to grow food, surrounded by natural resources that could very well support a tiny community. Clay built a little monument to call it their own, a statue of Master Fung that overlooked the land with what he hoped was a serenely protective stare, and then they all went to work.

Raimundo grumbled as they built huts. We shouldn't get too comfortable. This is only temporary. We'll be making plans to take back the temple, right?

He voiced concern when they started building fences for the pigs. Didn't we agree we weren't going to settle in? We need food, sure, but we need to do _something_ about, y'know, the three evil dudes threatening the world?

And in frustration, he outright shouted at Clay when they started to plant corn, because they weren't here to build a _plantation_, dammit, they were supposed to save the _world_ or whatever. The next day, he sheepishly apologized, saying he was just stressed and tired, and Clay forgave him because they all were. And he also forgave him because Raimundo didn't quite understand.

To be a leader, you had to be _smart_. And Clay knew from experience what that meant.


End file.
